Put a Ring On It
by Ledgerwood
Summary: S6  After the felicity of death, a little magic and an ancient, sacred bond makes Buffy seek out the only thing that makes her feel alive. When the time comes, will Giles know how to fulfill his duties as both a watcher and a friend?
1. Prologue

**Prologue~**

Leather squeaked as Giles leaned back on the bench against the brick wall of the training room. It was one of the few places that had been truly theirs; even more than the library which had been "headquarters" or the central part of the shop where daily meetings had been held. In those places, the lot of them had been briefed and suited up for battle (among other things) and both had been a home away from home for each Scooby and their loved ones. But here was made a different home altogether- one where Slayer and her watcher could return to their most natural state. In this room, Buffy had gained the mental discipline and spiritual awareness which he had been so eager to guide and, in turn, Rupert had known the deep intensity of fulfilling his most sacred purpose- To watch his creature of the night sharpen like a knife at his instruction, to bend like the sturdy metal that she was and right herself, stronger than before. And, of course, there had been friendship as well, affections easily passed between them in that time, and, above all, complete trust.

And yet, no training or preparedness could have delivered victory over Buffy's last foe. In reality, it was the deep knowing of oneself which he had allowed her that enabled Buffy to give herself up completely to her destiny.

Giles lifted his head forward from where it leaned against brick and brought his eyes to rest on the hands folded in his lap. He untwined them and fingered the thick indentation on his left pinky. It had been two days now and Giles had searched high and low both the Magic Box and his condo for the ring which he had dutifully worn for the past three years.

He leaned back once more and stared vaguely at the ceiling as he vividly revisited the day he had first received it…

"_Ooo! Packages." Buffy brightly exclaimed as she shot through the swinging double doors to approach the counter that separated her and her watcher. Both thumbs were hooked into the shoulder straps of her backpack and she paused for a moment at the stack of boxes that rested rather precariously at the far edge of the countertop._

"_Hello Buffy." He greeted her with a brief yet warm smile and glanced once at the clock on the wall before darting his eyes back to the book in his hands, then back to Buffy once more. When she looked at him rather expectantly, he responded,_

"_Ah yes. New order just in. M- Mostly scholastic in nature."_

"_Oh." replied Buffy, any curiosity dissipating instantly. She turned to make for the large rectangular table at the center of the room when the seam of her backpack caught the jagged-edged cardboard of one of the boxes. Giles looked up with some alarm just in time to see his slayer's split second reflexes turn and catch the first box, then the second and then use her shoulder to carefully nudge the rest back into place. She straitened them out and looked to Giles before emphatically pushing them farther from the edge and up against the wall. Suddenly something seemed to catch her eye and she knelt to retrieve it off the floor. _

"_What's this one?" She asked casually, producing a puffy yellow envelope._

"_Odd... I don't remember ordering any paperback editions" he replied, swiftly returning his glasses to his face and reaching for the object in Buffy's outstretched hand._

_She watched Giles' brow furrow slightly. _

"_What?" she asked._

"_It appears to be from the council."_

_Buffy's interest was once again peeked and she continued her previous direction, this time turning the corner to join her watcher behind the counter._

"_Think it's a really tiny pair of binoculars to help you do your duty from a distance?" she mused as Giles reached for his letter opener and began tearing at the package, unresponsively. _

"_Or maybe a little ball of sunshine to take with me out on patrols… Cause, you know, that'd be pretty useful..."_

_She moved closer as Giles removed the contents, which included a three-folded piece of crème colored paper and another small, seal-encrusted envelope. As he began to read the document, which displayed the bold letterhead of The Official Watcher's Council of England, Buffy reached for the breached yellow packaging. She stuck her hand inside to see if anything else had gone unnoticed and then turned it upside-down and shook for good measure._

"_Well I'll be damned." Giles almost whispered. Buffy's attention returned immediately to the document in question. He handed her the piece paper before she could ask, simultaneously reaching for the smaller envelope. It was no larger in dimensions than a pack of cigarettes with the thick red wax of the council's seal pressed into one side. Letter opener forgotten, he peeled open the little envelope and emptied the contents into his hand._

_At the sound of the object sliding though paper and the faint thud as it made contact with Giles' palm, Buffy's confused expression looked up from the council's tortuous rhetoric and fixated on the ring Giles held out in front of him._

"_Is it for me?" Buffy asked reluctantly, wearing an expression as if to say 'It may as well be a skull and crossbones for all I'll be wearing that gaudy thing in public.'_

"_It's for me." He replied._

_He almost let out a bitter laugh but his features remained firm._

"_Two years I've been your watcher… And you've survived it." He handed Buffy the ring and folded his hands in his lap._

"_Weird." She exclaimed, taking it from him to examine closely._

"_Yes Indeed," he replied, this time allowing himself the chuckle. _

_His "prize" for keeping the line of duty in tact. His claim to the heavyweight title of their undefeated champion. He scoffed at the show of sportsmanship. This was Buffy, not a job well done and as much as he felt responsible for her, she was much more to him than his "responsibility." It was all the more distasteful knowing what she would be forced to face in a few short weeks._

"_It is a fixation of aspiration amongst watchers-to-be. Quite a fuss made over it, really. Trivial doesn't seem to do it justice now." He turned forward again with the intention of returning to his text._

"_I think you should wear it."_

_Giles looked up at her somewhat bewildered._

"_I mean, maybe a jumbo-sized check and a flamethrower would have been more practical but…" She handed him back the ring, "It is a big deal. And you're the reason I'm alive."_

_Giles' jaw clenched as he fought the lump in his throat._

…Just as he was doing now.

The loss of the ring, compounded with the conversation he'd had just moments ago with Buffy's hauntingly mechanical counterpart, only served to solidify what he had been loath to acknowledge of late. His work here was over.

*Please review for Chapter One.


	2. 1 Beloved Sister, Devoted Friend

**Author's Note:** It recently entered my awareness that, after 6 years since its syndication and retaining the highest volume of fanfiction since its creation, _Buffy: The Vampire Slayer_ has just recently been out-written by some show called _Supernatural_. Saddened and disillusioned (if not a little intrigued), I submit this fic in contribution to the apparently thinning ranks of creative voices who's real lives have either taken over or moved on and dedicate it to those yet to enter this particular world of wonder. I am new to , having selfishly preferred the more review-ready niche of smaller communities, and could use a warm welcome. I hope you enjoy this spin on an old 'ship and stay vocal enough to keep it coming!

(Preemptive apologies for my appalling use of punctuation. Plenty of smut to compensate in later chapters.)

-M. Ledgerwood

* * *

**Chapter One: Beloved Sister, Devoted Friend**

-One Week Later-

Buffy lie flat on her back, the cold wet of the grass seeping through her shirt as a cloud of putrid dust settled over her. She flung the stake from where she held it pointing outward and rolled over in a brief fit of coughing.

She had learned, early on, to hold her breath with the close-up kills and by now it should have been instinct. Then again, she was still a bit rusty. 'Who am I kidding?' she resigned as she pulled herself up, brushing off dust and foliage. By now it should have been nothing. She'd been done with death, only to be forced back into the everyday of it that was Sunnydale.

Placing the sharpened wood piece back into the sewn-in pouch on the inner lining of her jacket, she tightened the leather around her and continued on in the general direction of the road.

She tread at a leisurely pace, casually kicking up dust and earth as she went- consciously drawing more attention to herself in the hopes of attracting one last bloodthirsty beastie looking for a fight, before reaching home and crawling into bed for a long night of sleeplessness. Not for the first time since her return, she considered how easy it would be to lose one of these routine battles. She would let her guard down, just for a minute, offer that moment of hesitation in which she could be overcome by arms and teeth, and then… poof. Only, her this time and in the less literal sense.

But, alas, her stratagem was no good. Because then all the people she loved, the very same she'd died protecting, would feel the pain and loss of it all over again- only this time, they would blame themselves. She could just hear Willow's frantic plea now:

"_But she's faced tons of vamps before, guys, hundreds, and she's always fought and won! We must have messed up, Giles, brought her back wrong or something..."_

Giles. It was difficult to factor him into all of this and she often had to remind herself that he'd had no part in her resurrection. In fact, Buffy had found herself wondering, if perhaps… if maybe Giles had known…

She stopped walking suddenly and looked around. Weird… She must have taken a wrong turn or veered off unknowingly because she somehow found herself in a different part of the cemetery altogether. She turned a bit to get her bearings and again caught sight of the road off to her far, rear left. She crossed her arms and, giving her momentary disorientation little focus, headed once more for the street that would lead her home. This time, she had only allowed herself to be lost in thought for a few seconds before she realized that she had once again lost sight of her path and was going the wrong way. She let out a puff of frustration, which blew the hair beside her face before moving to turn again in the direction of the road (now to her right). But before she could even take another step, something grabbed her attention from the corner of her vision and she froze. Her eyes moved first to the ground five feet beside her and the rest of her body followed their direction until she stood facing the thing dead on.

BUFFY ANNE SUMMERS

1981-2001

BELOVED SISTER

DEVOTED FRIEND

SHE SAVED THE WORLD

A LOT

For some time, she simply stared. A feeling overcame her, briefly, as if she was intruding on some peaceful rest; that some dead thing lie beneath the tilled earth and she, standing there, had no right to disturb it. Then came the lefty-logic of her brain and she knelt to press her hand to the damp soil. Her fingers were white as bone against the dark, rich dirt.

It was fresh. Again.

The keepers of Sunnydale's cemetery were not unaccustomed to finding the graves of those freshly buried torn up with little more remains than empty battered coffins, and it was obvious that they had dealt with her own in much the same manner as the countless others over the years; They had covered it back up. No one ever bothered to alert the families anymore. Whether that was standard policy by now or an understanding amongst few, Buffy had never bothered to find out. The irony of it all, of her place in these "inexplicable" events, both before and now, was not lost on her.

She placed her hands on her knees, preparing to right herself, when some tiny object gleamed under the moon's brief attentions. Buffy stretched on all fours, reaching for the bit of metal. It tore easily from the earth, clinging only slightly to entangled bits of mud and grass and she stood to examine it closer. As she rolled it between her fingertips to rid it of the debris, a new sense of shock and wonder overcame.

It was the ring. Giles' ring. The one he wore for her.

Buffy hadn't cried much in the days since her return but she now felt a hot ball of something constrict in the back of her throat and a stinging in the corners of her eyes. She fought the urge to shut them as a multitude of emotions flooded her instantly.

First, sadness- deep and unadulterated. She felt grief and guilt as her imagination allowed her, for the first time, to conjure what it must have taken for her watcher to let her go. This had, after all, had been his calling and his destiny, too. Then, a fleeting moment of hurt- that he would choose to discard something of such value, such a sentimental symbol of their bond. And finally, understanding- of whatever closure had come from this offering to her grave. Eyes wide and brimming with tears un-spilled, she slipped the ring onto her middle finger and held it slightly from her chest.

Her hand in the moonlight appeared so skeletal that she closed her eyes for fear that they might turn to bone before her. Just in that moment, the band of gold and stone was enveloped by a shimmering green light and Buffy felt it almost like a small electric spark. Startled by the sensation, she opened her eyes, relieved, if not slightly confused, to find the pale appendage looking more or less unextraordinary.

With a hasty sniffle against the sleeve of her jacket, she removed the ring, shoved it into the front pocket of her jeans and turned to walk briskly in the direction of her house.

This time, the graveyard let her leave.

**...**

"Hmmm…"

The sound of tins and glass jars scraping against bare wood could be heard amidst the quiet of the kitchen in the Summers' house. Willow was supposed to repaper the cabinet shelves last week and yet, in all the commotion, Tara could hardly be annoyed that it had fallen by the wayside.

"Where are you, Mr. Mugwort...?" The blonde witch stretched to reach the very back of the shelf, hips braced against the edge of the counter top and tip-toes perched on the small footstool below. She pushed aside powders and loose-leafs, some printed and labeled in the magic box, others by Willow and Tara (more than a few of them decorated with symbols and runes and others with hearts and crudely drawn "woman parts").

"Ah ha! Sneaky perennial…"

She had just closed the cabinet door, placed the small jar of herb on the counter, and brought one foot off the stool to lower herself, when it stopped mid-way, not yet touching the floor. Someone, or something, was outside the front door. She heard a jingling of brass as the doorknob twisted and a small creaking-open in the hinges.

"Buffy...?" She called.

The past summer had been relatively quiet for the homestead and she knew Buffy was out patrolling. Still, they could never get too comfortable, and uttering the name could be weapon enough against the right foul fiend just looking for an easy slaughter.

"It's me," she heard from around the corner and she let out the breath she had been holding.

"Hey You," she came around to greet her at the foot of the staircase. "H-How was patrolling?"

"Uh, you know, good. With the bad..." Buffy replied. "Pretty standard, I guess."

"Good. I mean, _good_," she said, adjusting her tone in a way that seemed to matter.

There was an awkward moment between the two as Buffy wondered if there was something else she was supposed to say.

"Well, I think I'm gonna just go wash the death off me... and then...bed."

Buffy cringed inwardly. Her first crack at a crack since her return and she had gracelessly fumbled it in the worst way. She felt like she'd just pointed to the morbidly obese elephant in their tiny house and cackled. Looking up expecting to find Tara's spooked expression, she was instead met with the same brand of concern she had been receiving the last few days. Or had it been a week already...?

"W-Well I was just making some tea," Tara stuttered in her usual way. "For me and Willow. We drink it sometimes before bed. I, I mean, it helps. W-with the sleeping." She could tell she had piqued Buffy's interest and added enthusiastically, "It can even make your dreaming state more lucid, like, more aware...?"

"NO." Buffy realized she had raised her voice and looked down at her shoes.

"No dreamy tea for me. I think a shower should be fine…" She started to pull herself up the stairs and then turned again as if she'd just remembered something.

"But thanks."

The other woman shrugged ever slightly and gave Buffy a smile that settled in her eyes. It was all things Tara- shy, kind, wise and worried- and Buffy tried to muster the affection she vaguely felt she should return.

"Gunnight."

"Night," Tara called up after her. She watched Buffy ascend for a second until she decided to return to her tea. Just then, however, something caught her eye and she lingered just inside the hallway to stare a little longer.

Tara frowned as Buffy's aura shifted colors.

**...…**

"Buffy!"

Her entire body gave an involuntary, startled jolt as she entered the dark hallway to find her sister standing directly in front her.

"Sorry- God, I've been doing that, haven't I? Don't worry- it's not just you. I'm pretty much a spazz-attack to everyone. But, I mean, you know that..." Dawn rambled, apologetically.

"Why aren't you asleep?" Buffy asked and ignored the briefly pained expression on her sister's face. She knew why she was still awake. The night before, Dawn had already been in bed by the time Buffy got home and she had been somewhat ashamed at the small relief she'd felt. Yet, at about 3:00am that morning, light had come flooding into her bedroom through a crack in the door and she could make out Dawn's round face peeking out from in between it. She'd lingered just a moment, long enough to confirm the presence of a breathing body beneath the covers, and then slipped out again, quietly.

"I couldn't sleep. That's all. Patrolling was good? I mean, okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine." It got a little easier to say each time. "You should really..."

"I know," Dawn assured emphatically rolling her eyes as if the suggestion had been made with the same emphasis. "I'm going to."

Buffy watched Dawn struggle to physically refrain from reaching out for a hug and, a little awkwardly, closed the distance between herself and the younger girl. She was met with eager arms.

"Goodnight."

Dawn squeezed tightly and Buffy held her breath. It seemed to last forever.

As if remembering herself, Dawn stepped back slightly.

"I'll see you in the morning? I mean, duh." She smiled. "Don't let the bed bugs bite," Dawn offered, as if it was what they always said.

"Won't," Buffy replied. 'Night."

Following her sister's lead, Dawn turned and headed in the direction her room.

The muscles in Buffy's shoulders and back loosened instantly as the bathroom door closed behind her. As it had become habit to her in the last week, she closed her eyes and felt along the wall for the light-switch. Giving them ample time to adjust, her eyes remained shut as she crossed her arms around her midriff, lifted her shirt at the seams and pulled it up over her head. Even after she could look around the room, Buffy avoided her reflection; still haunted by the last time she saw her face staring back at her (and the smoke-and-mirrory weirdness that had followed). She moved towards the tub and pulled aside the curtains.

After the initial squeak of the knobs there was a loud, rumbling groan and Buffy jumped backwards. She watched the showerhead sputtered a couple of times before, much to her horror, it began spewing a steady stream of thick, dark red-brown.

The hairs stood up on the back of Buffy's Neck.

"No..." she barely whispered as she clamped her eyes shut again and willed it to go away. She took a long, deep breath to calm herself, and that was when she noticed it. The smell. It was slightly metallic, not unlike blood, yet definitely more pungent.

Buffy's face scrunched up as she took another pointed sniff and opened one eye.

"Ughhhh."

She reached forward and twisted the screeching knobs to stop the flow of rusted pipe-spew and sighed heavily.

"This night should be over."

Still wearing a sports bra and jeans, she opened the bathroom door, crossed the hall and came to stand in front of her mom's... in front Willow and Tara's bedroom door. Her knuckles hovered, for just a moment, level to her face before tapping lightly.

Willow swung the door open to reveal her scantly clad friend.

"Hey Buff," She said, trying to hide her surprise. "You okay? I mean, you need anything?"

Willow's brain jumped ahead of her:

"_No... Just wanted to talk," Buffy replied making eye contact. "I've obviously had a lot on my mind lately and, I guess I could just use some support. Of the best-friendly variety. Can I come sit with you...like old times...?"_

_Willow felt a small, hopeful smile creeping to the corners of her mouth..._

"Shower's broken."

And it faded.

"Must be something with the plumbing," Buffy said. "Is… is yours okay?"

"Uh, yeah." Willow moved aside to usher Buffy in and headed straight for the bathroom.

"I mean, last I checked. Which was tonight."

She leaned over the tub to test first the spigot and then the showerhead.

"All clear in here." She looked back at Buffy and was vaguely reminded of the times her dad used to indulge her by checking the bed and the closet for monsters. Imaginary ones, of course.

"Well, do you mind if I...?

"No! I mean, yes, of course, go ahead." Her arm reached out for the wall rack and Willow pushed Buffy's automatic recoil to the back corner of her brain. She'd been keeping a lot of things there lately and it was starting to get a little cramped.

"This towel is clean. And, um, ya' know, use whatever you want…obviously. I'll just be outside."

"Thanks."

She looked so tired.

"Yeah." Willow closed the door to the bathroom and sat at the edge of her bed. There was another knock, this one slightly more clumsy sounding and with considerable clinking, and she moved to get the door.

"Hey Baby..." Tara held the handle of a small metal teapot in one hand and two mugs in the other.

"Tea."

"Great." Willow, replied genuinely. As Tara moved to arrange the tea set on the dresser, Willow came up from behind and wrapped her arms around her girlfriend's middle.

"Mmmm... Smells like yummy casting."

Tara smiled and placed a hand over the one just below her breast.

"Is there someone in the bathroom?" she asked as she turned at the sound of the water coming on.

"It's Buffy. Something's wrong with that shower again. I'll have Xander come by tomorrow."

"Oh."

Tara leaned back into her as she poured for the both of them.

"It should cool for a minute."

"Kay," Willow whispered into her shoulder before placing a soft, moist kiss there.

"I'm just gonna go brush my teeth."

She untwined herself and headed back to the bathroom.

"Buffy...?" She opened the door just a crack at first.

"It's me. I'm gonna brush."

She stepped into the steamy bathroom, maneuvering around Buffy's crumpled cloths, and got out her toothbrush. In the past, Willow might have made small talk from the other side of the curtain, but now she went about her business quietly so as not to distract her- Buffy was so easily distractible these days. Not that Willow could really think of much to say anyway...

The sound of Willow's meticulous brushing slowly came to a halt as she reached out and picked up the ring sitting just beside the bar of soap.

~*_FLASH*~ _(back)

"_Oh my god, Buffy! How romantically epic!" The two girls practically bounced through the archways of the Sunnydale quad through a sea of students on their way to class. _

" _It's like a symbol of the primal, predestined bond between watcher and slayer, and, and you guys just, like, reached a new level or something! It's like the councils way of sayin' "Put a ring on it!"… Only, you know, more British. A…and not, like, in the married way 'cuz, well, it's Giles, but, I think it's really sweet!"_

"_Me too." Buffy smiled at the Willow-y rambling. "Course, I had to convince Giles of that."_

_Willow only frowned, confused._

"_He didn't exactly make with the squealing," Buffy offered. "Actually seemed a sorta' wigged, but I didn't ask. I think there were layers." She shrugged and then grinned. " Anyways, he came around…"_

Willow heard the water shut off beside her and quickly rinsed, placing the ring exactly as she had found it and slipping out before Buffy could finish ringing out her hair.

Later that night, As Tara tried to spoon Willow into sleep, the redhead turned to face her girlfriend.

"Buffy visited her grave tonight."

"What?" Tara propped herself up on one elbow.

"Will, how do you…?"

"She found Giles' ring. The one we used for the spell. She brought it back with her."

"Oh…" Tara said, lowering herself back down to her pillow as realization dawned.

"She doesn't know I saw it."

"Oh."

All of Tara's concerns played across her face- not the least of which being the mystical implications of removing such an object from the site of it's casting- but when she looked back up into her lover's eyes she was met with the plain, worried expression of a girl for her best friend.

"Oh, Will, she'll be okay."

Willow responded with a look of both intense doubt and the eagerness to quell it.

"Honey, maybe she just needed to go back there, you know, to see. To… to get some closure."

"Closure?" Willow repeated. "Like, the kind that helps you move-on?"

Tara nodded.

"Well, that's helpful." Her tone was more excited, if not a little desperate. "Maybe now it'll be easier for her, like, more real- That she's really home now, really safe."

Tara snuggled in closer to offer more soothing words.

"You know, they say there are all these steps that a person has to go through when you loose someone." She said. "And then, I think it's fair to tack on a few extra when you actually loose yourself…"

Willow gave a sad little smile.

"So, I think what we have to remember is that, it would be weird if it didn't take a while. Maybe worse. Time is healthy, Sweetie. Time is good."

They kissed and Willow hummed with relief before looking back into her girlfriend's eyes.

"How do you do that?" Willow asked with wonder and love. "Make everything okay again?" A mischievous grin pulled at the corner of Tara's full lips.

"M..." Tara began but was stopped by Willow's finger at her lips.

"No, wait," she interrupted, "Don't tell me…" And she kissed her again, this time, for a while.

"Mmm… speaking of which…" Tara reached over Willow's shoulder to turn off her reading lamp. On the way back down, she stopped to nuzzle her ear and whispered,

"See you in dreamland…"

**...**

"_Do you trust me?"_

_Buffy's eyes were closed but her senses were honed to take in the vibrational currents and waves that were circulating throughout the room. Every breath was loud and slow. She followed him with acute awareness as he moved to stand behind her._

"_Completely," she replied assuredly, the words more ritualistic as she confirmed what both already knew to be true._

_He stepped back a few feet and paused until all else was quiet to her except the enveloping sound of her breath and his. The stillness was deafening._

"_Jump" he instructed._

_Without a moment's hesitation, she gave into gravity and leaned back into a freefall that made her stomach turn over. Falling, falling, she continued until her logical mind told her she had passed the expected threshold from her distance to the ground. Still, she kept her eyes shut, giving up every muscle's impulse to brace herself against a fast, hard landing. Moments stretched by like minutes, until she felt it- strong hands behind her shoulders, lowering with the momentum of her downward motion. She heard the scraping of earth as he shifted his weight and brought her to rest completely on the ground. It was cold against her back and she could smell fresh dirt all around- close on all sides and stretching six feet up. She knew where she was._

_Her senses adjusted to take in the scent of Giles' warm breath close to her own as he suddenly hovered, almost weightless, above her._

"_I thought I told you to jump."_

"_I did," she replied. Her eyes remained closed._

"_Then why are you still here?" he continued, patient yet testing._

_She paused for a moment in meditative thought._

"_Because you're holding me down," she replied. And suddenly his weight was very much upon her, tangibly pinning her to the ground beneath them._

_She abruptly opened her eyes to meet his genuinely questioning gaze and spoke again in a moment that felt like revelation._

"_You're the reason I'm alive." _

Buffy awoke with a start and it took her a second to realize she was holding her breath. She exhaled forcefully and brought her hand to her chest as it rose and fell in a panting rhythm.

Her first instinct was to reach for the phone at her bedside and press the speed dial that would put her through to her watcher. She had been dreaming vividly the past few nights but what she had just experienced left her with the same weighted feeling of importance as some of her previous, more prophetic manifestations.

Oddly, it was the realization that it was very late which hit her first, and his obviously inevitable absence on the other end, second. But, as she returned to herself and her present surroundings, it was another realization altogether, which touched something deep in Buffy. She had had an instinctual connection to something of her former life; something other than her previously sustained bliss, which suddenly inspired longing and comfort. And she had something to look forward to- Tomorrow, he'd be coming home.

She turned over on her side facing the window and it wasn't long until some small shred of relief followed her into a deeper slumber

* * *

*A bit slow, I know, but not to fear- Plenty of our favorite fellow in the next installment.


	3. Chapter 2: Welcome Home

**Chapter 2: Welcome Home**

"_Flight 214 to Toronto, now boarding…"_

The cacophony of the hustle and bustle at Heathrow Airport provided a kind of white noise and Giles slouched back into his metal and plastic chair among rows, retreating to his thoughts. So much to process and none of it yet real to him.

There was a feeling of anticipation in his gut which had first seized him in his flat while hearing the unthinkable conveyed over the phone with excitement. It had changed as the days passed, into a steady, pulsing pull at his innards which was constant in him now. His strong hand clutched the rolled up end of the paper lunch bag he held in his lap and lines formed at the corners of his eyes in a smile. Onto the brown bag was drawn a little dragon with hearts for wings and the word 'Ru'.

"_Just like Mum used to do..."_

But the lines transposed into pursed lips and a slightly furrowed brow as he recalled the rest of he and his sister's departure.

She had held him in a gripping embrace, similar to the one they'd shared when he'd first landed. Indeed, he half expected her to utter the words she'd offered upon his arrival.

"_I'm so sorry, Rupert…"_

Instead she'd pulled back a bit to hold him squarely by the shoulders and said, "_Promise me. That you'll consider coming back, coming home."_

Rupert had tried to reply but she'd cut him off, clearly not finished.

"_Listen, I know you've given your life for her, and it's been the richer for it."_ Her tone had been tenderly resolute. _"But, my dear brother, these things are meant to run their course…"_

He'd turned away from her then and knelt to lift his duffle bag.

"_We know another waits to take your place, a watcher, destined just as you…"_

"_Gwen, I can't,"_ he'd cut her off. "_Not now, not yet. Not until I see her face to face and know what she's…" _A darkness passed over his features and they shared a knowing look. _ "Until then, nothing can be sure."_

His sister's smile had been radiantly sad and proud and Rupert sat lost in the memory of it. The love between them ran deep and years of separation had not diminished it.

"Business or pleasure?"

He was startled and looked up to meet the eyes of his thought's intruder. Seated three chairs down from him, she was an extremely attractive woman- in her early thirties by the look of her. One of her black leather pumps bounced as her long, crossed leg swung slightly beneath a tailored two-piece suit. She was leaning towards him with one arm slung over the back of her seat and her rich, brown hair, neatly pinned to one side, cascaded over her shoulder. She spoke with a deliberate American accent from behind flawlessly applied lipstick and cocked her head to one side in undisguised scrutiny. She was enough to make any Englishman stutter and Giles was a fluent fumbler. Except when he wasn't.

"Neither really." He looked at her with vague warmth but didn't turn to engage fully. "And both, I suppose."

"Hmmm…" She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips in interest, both genuine and mocking. "Sounds complicated."

He let out a god natured huff in response to her amusement, yet offered nothing more. Still so near, this woman was a world away from him.

"And you?" he asked politely.

"Business," she replied. That's why I'm here, at least. I was doing some PR work here in London for an agency based out of Los Angeles. So I'm going home actually, I guess."

Giles wondered briefly at the ambiguity of her last statement. He himself had no idea whether he was returning home or leaving it.

"Though lately it feels more like the place I pick up my mail," She added.

"Frequent flyer?" He asked.

"You could certainly say that."

They talked idly for some time about various things including their destinations, in more specific detail, as well as their affinity (or lack thereof) for other parts of the world. They were both charming; her in her confident flirtations and him in his reserved eloquence, despite the nature of his only partially concealed distraction.

"_Flight 219 to Los Angeles now boarding rows 1-15"_

She had since moved to sit beside him and, elbow perched on the chair's arm that separated them, she held her ticket up between her middle and forefinger.

"After you, I guess."

"Yes, Indeed," he smiled and then padded around his pockets in search of his own boarding pass.

"Pleasure talking," He said as soon as he held in it his hand. "I'm sorry, I- I don't believe I quite caught your name."

"Apology accepted," she replied playfully, reaching into the breast of her jacket. She pulled out a crisp, white business card and handed it to him.

"Melissa Angelo."

He took the card from her with one hand and shook hers with the other.

"Rupert Giles."

She smiled and remained seated as he gathered his belongings and slung his luggage over one shoulder.

"If you find yourself back in L.A.," she added, "look me up. Give me the chance to tip the scales on your business/pleasure trip."

He blushed slightly with a nod of his head. "Yes, thank you." And he turned towards the loading bay.

Her eyes followed his broad, lean form with a mixture of appreciation and something else.

"Poor soul…" She muttered, as she watched him walk away.

…

"Thanks." Giles smiled distractedly as he handed the cab driver his newly re-acquired American money. The man's cap hung low enough to shield his eyes almost completely and he reached back for the wad of cash with a rough, gnarled hand. He smelled of chewing tobacco and something distinctly inhuman; Giles' first real reaffirmation he'd indeed returned to the hellmouth. He climbed out and around to the back of the car where the trunk popped open to reveal his luggage. As he lifted the bag with one hand and slammed the back hood down with the other, Giles caught a glimpse of the driver's weathered face from the side view mirror as he reached for his gearshift. The watcher briefly saw him mutter something inaudible under his breath, before turning to step onto the sidewalk.

"Welcome home, Sensei." And the cab drove off, leaving Giles alone in front of the Magic Box.

Sun beat down on the red brick of the building and he squinted. The daylight gave him an odd sense of having slipped out of time entirely. That was to be expected, though, he told himself, where 12-hour flights were concerned. Tightening his grip on the handle of his large duffle, he stepped forward with an odd mixture of hesitation and unstoppable drive that almost physically pulled him apart. He closed his eyes and inhaled a silent prayer as he reached for the brass doorknob.

A familiar jingle alerted the room to his presence, though not everyone turned immediately to size up the supposed patron. His world froze and he stood amazed at the surreally mundane scene before him.

The shop looked just the same. Sunlight peeked through the high, narrow windows in streaks and streams to highlight crystals, glass shelves and dancing dust particles from musty old books. The dim static of magic that hung in the air whispered amongst itself, unbeknownst to the congregation below and its awe-struck onlooker. Giles dropped his bag instead of his jaw. There they were, bantering around the table in 'research mode'.

All of them.

One by one, recognition lit up their faces until two bodies, as if pulled by an unconscious force, moved to close the distance.

"Oh my god, Buffy…"

Watcher and slayer teetered, just for a second, in the fragile space between them before enveloping one another in a full-bodied embrace.

"You're alive," He exhaled. "You're here." She was real, solid- hair, flesh and bone. And muscle.

"And still… remarkably strong," he choked out in a nervous chuckle.

"Huh…?" Buffy's mind struggled to keep up with his words as the contact sent a wave of something familiar through her body and mind. "Oh! Sorry…" She stepped back a bit in embarrassment, which quickly dissolve at the look of sheer wonder and love plastered on her watcher's face.

"Willow told me but I didn't really let myself believe."

"I take a little getting used to," Buffy conceded. "I'm still getting used to me."

"Yes well…" Giles helplessly searched his brain for the words to express what he was feeling. "Your…"

"A miracle." She finished in a knowing tone that almost mocked the true nature of what he surely saw as her "miraculous" revival.

"Yes," he marveled. A hand instinctively moved to cup the soft curve of her cheek. "But then, I always thought so."

They stood like that for a second, each basking in their respective hopes and dreams made flesh, until gradually becoming aware of their audience. Buffy's mere thought of continuing their reunion in a place more private was loud enough suggestion for Giles and he gestured to follow her into the back room. No one made protest or any move to stop them. Still gathered around the table, their faces were a mixture of excitement and hope and, in Willow's case, something distinctly smug. Giles caught her eye it in the last moment before stepping through the open door and it served to ground him almost instantly back down to the reality of his fears.

Once inside the training room they found themselves faced with the impossible task of how to begin. There were so many things she needed to hear him say; the whys and the hows, the things the others wouldn't. And so much she wanted to burden him with- to share the horrors of the truth and the sweet bile taste of the lies.

"So…" He punched the hanging bag in awkward acknowledgement of their predicament.

"I can start." Buffy offered, sitting down on the leather couch.

Giles' thought it awfully generous, given the circumstances, and he was grateful if not a little defeated.

"How was England? How was... life?"

Giles let out a long puff of air he'd been holding and looked to the ceiling for inspiration.

"I'm not really sure how to answer that.," he said sincerely. Buffy folded her hands in her lap and looked patiently up at him.

"Um, when I arrived home I, uh, met with The Council."

Buffy nodded her sympathy. "Always a good time." Her tone was one of sarcasm as, indeed, all of their dealings with the council in their day had been either infuriating or dreaded. However, some small part of Buffy felt that there was probably less berating involved, even for Giles, upon performing the most solemn watcher-ly duty of relinquishing one's title. Even if they'd already tried to take it from him once.

"Yes…" He looked down at his shoes. "Ah… Otherwise, there's nothing really to report, um, I- I keep a flat in Bath…I, uh, met with a few old friends…." Giles began to shrug off his brown suede jacket and felt the stiffness of a business card in the breast of it.

"Almost made a new one, which, I think is almost statistically impossible for a man of my age," he mused half-heartedly tossing the garment onto the sofa.

"And now you're back," she finished for him.

"Yes," He agreed with a short, almost bitter smile, placing his hands on his hips and returning his yes to the floor.

"Wow. Giles, are you miserable about it or just _really_ British?" It was meant as a kind of a joke though she didn't fight to hide the knowing disappointment in her voice.

And why shouldn't he be miserable? As much as she and the scoobies liked to paint their watcher as a stuffy old foreigner with interest in exactly books, tea and evil, Buffy knew the truth of the man. He was a walking, talking, multifaceted exhibition of knowledge, passions and gifts and she thought it not impossible at all that a man of his age, talents and character would have an easy time making new friends. To be able to finally pass the torch, to find meaning in other than fighting the good fight, and then thrown back into the heart of a world where your gifts are but a weapon- Buffy could never begrudge him that disappointment.

Giles smiled, briefly comforted by the familiar jab, and plucked his glasses off his fatigued face.

"I can't lie to you, Buffy…" He moved to sit next to her and used the front of his loose sweater to wipe his lenses. "Um…God… leaving Sunnydale was, was ah…difficult. And, coming back is…"

"I'm guessing the word is 'inconvenient'?" She supplied.

His glasses still in his hands, he locked eyes with her intently.

"No." He assured, firmly; he wanted her to believe him. But Buffy thought he was looking at her like some sort of strange wild creature and, right now, it was making her feel like one.

"Bewildering?" He offered and put his glasses back in their usual place. He looked to her for some recognition that she understood but instead she kept her eyes on the hands in her lap. Giles supposed he had said enough abut his own emotional state.

"And how are you?" He asked, placing a hand encouragingly on her shoulder and ignoring the brief static that passed between them. "Really? You look tired…"

For a split second, the gesture was almost enough to make her drop her guard. In an instant, the warmth of Giles' hand and the friction of his thumb's small windshield-wiping motion on her skin served to wash away some of the barrier which seemed to separate her from the world. Though his touch was as gentle as it could have been, she felt strength in his large hand- so much larger than her own- so that she could almost imagine it strong enough to share some of the load. It was almost enough to stop her from lying… Almost. And then she remembered herself.

"Me? Nah…" she shrugged, though their touch remained unsevered. "Fine."

His gaze was unflinchingly unconvinced and he braced himself for the confession of inner torture that was sure to come.

"I mean ya," She continued awkwardly, "Sleeping's hard." He removed his hand from its resting place and she suddenly felt the words coming easier. "But, just because of the whole 'waking up in a box' thing. So, maybe waking up's the problem."

He didn't smile at her flippant jests. He had braced himself for what was sure to come and, when it didn't, his features instead grew darker.

"You know, but just for second." She added. " I sleep okay. Great, even. Except, you know, for the dreams…"

He felt he should say something- she was trying at least, though not in the way he would have hoped- but he also knew he couldn't push her if she wasn't ready.

"You seem to be doing remarkably well under extreme circumstances," he told her genuinely. "I'm proud of you."

"Well, actually it wasn't me." She replied, wishing she could just say thank you. "Willow brought me back, I just lay there."

"Yes well, you know, I- I meant…"

"I know what you meant." She interjected. "It was just a little post… _post_ mortem comedy."

He gave a small worried smile, acknowledging her attempt at humor, though it was obviously less than comforting.

"Well, I'd better start prepping." Buffy practically jumped out of her seat unable to withstand the scrutiny any longer. "You know, for slayage."

He watched her begin to wrap her hands in the bandage-like fabric she used to train and then rose as well, a little eager himself to disengage.

"Yes, there is always that, isn't there?"

"Seems that way," She replied softly, not looking up from her handy work.

It stirred something in Giles as he, once again, felt the need to say more. There was an emptiness and despair to her presence, as she methodically wound the white ribbon of cloth tightly around and around. It was overwhelming.

He wondered if it was enough- the slayage, the duty, their once tight-knit troop of try-hards- enough to keep a person alive. Buffy (the Buffy he knew) had never been a quitter. Even in her ultimate sacrifice, he knew it was with a sense of pride, if not also tremendous loss, that she took her own life so that others would survive by her. But this jeering and muted person before him… Who knew what Buffy this was? At least he was here to keep an eye on her now. He turned towards the door. He would watch, as he could only ever do.

"Giles." She called after him as he was almost to the doorway. He turned to her and seemed hopefully expectant for a moment as he saw her struggle for her words.

She couldn't leave it at that. He had to know… something. She wasn't sure what but something had gone unsaid (apart from the gapingly obvious) and she needed him to see it, to understand. Something was different and she hadn't fully realized it until… until his touch. The contact had stirred up something familiar inside and, while its intensity frightened her, it was a thing that she hadn't felt since…

"…_Do you trust me…?"_

He shifted slightly in anticipation and it was enough to snap her out of her reverie.

"I… Uh…" She picked at the wrappings, shaking her head slightly as if to jog her brain. "I'm glad your back," She settle on, looking him in the eye now.

"Me too," He smiled back at her, more warmly this time.

Still, it wasn't enough.

"There are things," she began again, "Things I haven't told the others. About where I was, what it was like."

Giles stood eagerly motionless so as not to disrupt her train of thought.

She looked back down at her hands again. "I, I don't really think I'm ready. To talk about it, I mean."

He nodded back at her in understanding, seemingly comforted by this admission, yet urging her to continue when he could see she hadn't finished.

"I don't really know if and when I'll ever be. Ready. But…" She stepped forward a little and then stopped again, unsure of herself. "Having you here… it seems a little less lonely. And I don't just mean in the 'shear increase in numbers kinda' way."

This time he did laugh a little and she was relieved.

"But like it might get easier. Someday…"

"Buffy." He moved closer to stand in front of her once again. "I'll be right here, whenever you're ready to, to talk about it."

She fiddled with her bound hands again before Giles reached up to grasp one and held it by her side.

"…And I'll be here when you aren't," He assured, making direct eye contact. "It will get easier."

Buffy looked up at him as though someone had just thrown her a lifesaver (of the non candy variety), her head, for a moment, resting above water.

"We will get through this." His other hand came up to rest on her shoulder again and pulled her slightly closer as he leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead.

"Together," He whispered into her crown. He gave her another affectionate squeeze on the arm before shyly smiling at the bindings on her hands and the punching bag beside them.

She could feel the waters start to rise again as he turned and left the room to greet the others.

*Please review!


	4. Chapter 3: This Strange Estrangement

**Author's Note: **So sorry that this took forever. I hope you haven't forgotten the beginning of this story. :/

I thought I needed to mention the AU absence of Spike (as I failed to do in the first chapter). For all intents and purposes, he left town a week before Giles did and is on a self-destructive, out of the loop, angsty quest of some kind. I hate to chop him out of anything, as I think he is one of the most fascinating characters in the Buffyverse (next to Giles), but he just doesn't work here. For now. ;)

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 3- This Strange Estrangement**

The days that followed passed in a jumble of emotions, challenges met, and awkward adjustments. Some things were as difficult as he could have imagined and others were easier than he might have expected. For instance, Giles had been worried about over-crowding his recently revived slayer in an attempt to alleviate his own… bewilderment. Surely, in the case of a loved one risen from the dead (though Giles was certain there wasn't a handbook on such a milestone- at least not one that wasn't considerably outdated), the constant urge to reach out, to physically affirm tangibility, was more or less to be expected or, at least, understood. What he hadn't anticipated was Buffy's eagerness to reciprocate. In fact, Giles found more and more each day, that he was never want for physical nearness when it came to his slayer. She found every occasion to touch him and sometimes needed none at all. From strategically placed seating and comforting hand squeezes to spontaneous hugs, Buffy seemed to thrive upon their physical displays of friendship and closeness. Giles was both overjoyed beyond measure by this astonishing development and deeply concerned.

As it were, Buffy wasn't sharing this level of openness as easily or naturally with all of her loved ones. Xander and Willow's delight over whatever Buffy took comfort in generally seemed to prevail over their healthy modicum of jealousy concerning the "PDA." However, in Dawn, he was beginning to see real hurt. Giles didn't know if Buffy had been especially keeping her sister at arms length, but she certainly seemed to be most sensitive to the distance. Unsure as to how to persuade his slayer to express some genuine affection for the girl, he had settled for overcompensating with his own attentions. Having always been somewhat the patriarchal figure within their small group, it was easy for him to fall into the role and he made of point of being more of a father figure to Dawn than he had ever been. For the time being, at least, it seemed to uphold some level of balance.

Giles' only conscious explanation for Buffy's change in behavior toward him was perhaps the financial stability he'd been able to provide. She had spoken with him that first night about their, more or less, dire situation and it pained him to think that, on top of all that had happened, she'd had this anxiety to add to her burdens. He had been quick to assure her that, since she was now the active slayer again, he would do everything in his power to ensure that the council provided for all of her material needs- and had been largely successful, much to everyone's relief. They weren't living extravagantly, by any means, but the collectors stopped calling and they were once again recycling their junk mail instead of sifting through coupons.

Yet, still, there were moments of true alarm.

Buffy had gotten a late start today. It seemed to Giles that, since she'd been back, the girl either rose as early as he did (a time which most of the Scoobies considered an ungodly hour) or not before Noon. It was nearly 2:00pm before Buffy decided that she would ride with Giles to pick up Dawn from school and then to The Magic Box to spend the rest of the afternoon in training. Giles had just gone upstairs to change when he heard the panpipe sound of his tea reaching its boiling point and he rolled his eyes at the fluted melody. Willow had placed an enchantment on the iron kettle a few days before to replace the "shrill shriek" of the spout with the soothing sounds of a Peruvian wind instrument. Giles, however, was of the belief that there were some worldly necessities which functioned just as they ought to and, in all honesty, found few things in life as truly soothing as the stalwart whistle of a ready kettle.

"I got it..." Buffy yelled up from the kitchen. Giles checked his reflection in the bathroom, finished pulling on his sweater, and descended the staircase, straitening his collar as he went.

"You know, I thought perhaps we might see if Dawn was interested in going out for a meal this evening. Once we've finished training, of course, and she's finished with her…"

Giles' voice trailed off as he'd rounded the corner and stopped short in the doorway. There was Buffy, standing in a bit of a daze next to the stove top where the kettle had been set aside and the gas left burning in a thick, blue ring of sputtering flame- her outstretched hand held directly above it.

"Buffy." Giles spoke quietly, while his mind tried to wrap itself around the bizarre scene.

"Buffy!" He shouted, this time in urgency, and was at her side in another second. It wasn't until his hand snatched at her wrist that she seemed to jolt out of her trance to find her fingers being plunged under running water. Giles' arm ran the length of her own as he stood from behind and held out her hand to steady her. His breathing was quick and heavy against her shoulder.

"What on earth… Buffy, what on earth were you thinking?" He asked, incredulously.

"I…" Buffy struggled to break through the confusion, the sensation, and the lack thereof. "I… It's cold."

"Yes," He replied hastily, "We, we have to stop the swelling- stop the burning." Any average human, and the wound would have already begun to blister and boil. Yet, for much the same reason his slayer didn't easily bruise, hers was merely an angry shade of red. Still, Giles was visibly frightened.

"No…" Buffy backpedaled for her words, "I don't mean the…"

They both heard the loud slamming of the front door and locked eyes for a moment.

"Hey Gang! It's me!"

As Willow rounded the corner it had been Buffy to shut off the faucet and break away from their strange embrace and, though neither had been able to shake Willow of the feeling that she had interrupted something major, in the end, Giles let Buffy slip out of the awkward stand off and to her room. She'd remained there until it was time to leave.

The car ride might have been a silent one if not for Dawn's new History teacher, the scruffy, fresh out of grad school type, who had just been assigned to her sophomore class by no less than act of god. Apparently he was inexhaustibly "babe worthy" and Buffy even chimed in amidst the descriptive chatter to cautiously inquire after the fate of the old history teacher. As far as they were concerned, any staff replacement at Sunnydale High warranted a full scale investigation but it was Giles' turn to be distracted and aloof. When they reached the magic box, each sister went their separate ways; Buffy headed for the bathroom to change while Dawn set about laying her books and things at the table for studying. Giles headed straight to the back room. Dawn was rummaging for a pen when she heard him call to her from the kitchenette.

"Tea, Luv?"

Dawn smiled.

"Yes Please."

Giles was worried when the water had boiled and Buffy hadn't yet emerged, but he dutifully marched back into the shop with two steaming mugs in hand.

"What have we today, then?" He asked, setting Dawn's cup on the tabletop and bringing his own to his lips.

"Bio," the girl replied less mournfully than usual. "Mostly bookwork but there's lots of creepy pictures and stuff." She rotated the book in his direction to display a flayed squirrel, it's insides exposed and flesh neatly pinned to a cork. Giles frowned slightly over the rim of his cup at the twinkle in Dawn's eyes.

"Not unlike demon research, wouldncha' say?" Dawn asked casually.

"Indeed," He replied. '_Perhaps she'll be a surgeon,_' he mused optimistically, recalling, all too well, a similar look in Buffy's eyes after her first kill with a broadsword.

"Well, we'll be in back if you need anything." He said, brushing her once on the shoulder as he turned towards the training room. Dawn briefly made some verbal acknowledgment before slipping on her earphones and nodding her head to a different voice entirely.

Once back in the back room, Giles shut the door, leaned up against the stacked mats, and waited for Buffy to come out. He knew she would be reluctant to talk about the kitchen incident, but not addressing it simply wasn't an option. Giles had been pleased with the progress they'd made in the time they were together but, of course, they were not always together. If Buffy was having self-destructive impulses, Giles needed to know about them and yesterday.

Just as he was beginning to work up the courage to knock, Buffy stepped out wearing her usual sweat and tank attire.

"So, what's on the menu?" She asked as casually as possible, not quite meeting his gaze. "Weapons and blocks, or crystals and mojo?" For some reason, she hoped for the latter.

"Let me see your hand." Giles replied assertively, setting down his teacup and standing straight.

Buffy thought to make some joke in protest or hold up her other hand instead of the obvious one in question. For some reason, though, she just stepped a bit closer and held out her palm for his inspection. The red had turned pink and shiny; the upper layer of skin melting into something smooth and even that stretched and wrinkled like plastic, spreading all the way to the tips on her middle and forefinger. It didn't really hurt unless she bent it. Much.

"Think it's okay to train? With it, I mean."

Giles removed his glasses and leaned back again, folding his arms in front of him.

"You seem to be healing right along, as usual, but frankly Buffy, that's not quite what concerns me."

Buffy looked down at the floor.

"What were you doing?" Giles asked plainly, clearly expecting Buffy to have an answer.

When she didn't immediately, he pressed on.

"Surely you must understand my… my alarm at walking in on…"

"I know." Buffy cut him off. Shaking her head slightly, she turned to lean up against the mats beside him. "I know," She repeated, "I'm sorry. It's just…" Buffy sighed. She wanted him to understand. In fact, she didn't think she'd ever wanted anyone to understand something more in her entire life (and death combined).

"It just that, most of the time," Buffy continued, "I don't even know if I'm hungry or cold or… Or even awake." 'Or living out a waking hell,' she purposfully didn't add. "I- I just want things to feel the way they used to." She let out another big sigh. "Lately, even the basics seem, just, out of my reach. I just wanna know what I'm supposed to feel." She looked down, again, a little surprised at the tightness in her throat and the sting of encroaching tears, but the feeling faded quickly enough.

"In other words," Giles mused, "you're looking for 'Fire bad; tree pretty?"

Buffy looked up and him and they shared a brief and knowing smile.

"I guess I'm a testament to the first half." She said, holding out her hand.

"Buffy," Giles began, "Our feelings are seldom as simple as they are in... in a fight-or-flight situation- but that doesn't mean we go seeking them out. And no one knows how they are supposed to feel from day to day, well that's only natural," He assured, but Buffy just stared down at her hands and Giles suddenly felt a little foolish. "But this is different, isn't it?" he said, taking on a different tone. He pivoted to face her and rested one elbow on the top mat, bringing them closer. "Is it like that all the time?" he asked gently.

Buffy gulped; here it came. He had to see, didn't he? That she wasn't always basking in the torment? Though she'd only begun to notice it herself, surely there were times when she was obviously more at ease, more Buffy.

"No." She answered honestly. "The only time I…" She fumbled. " The only thing that makes me feel, like living, or even just feel…" Buffy opened her mouth to say one set of words and then, afraid another might come out, closed it abruptly. "Never mind," She finished, breaking away once more.

"Buffy..." Giles urged, "I only want to understand. To... to help. It's why I'm here." The sincerity on his face was almost heart breaking.

"Is it?" Buffy finally asked, peering directly up at him, searching his eyes for something important.

"Is what?" asked Giles, feeling a bit lost.

"Is that why you're here, Giles?"

Giles frowned at at her question and began as if going to assure her but Buffy closed her eyes before he could say another word and leaned in on an impulse to strong to resist. Giles hadn't any time to think as she closed the distance between them yet managed to pull back just as her lips would have made contact with his. When they didn't, Buffy opened her eyes to find a look on Giles' face that she thought would haunt her for the rest of her days.

"Oh my god." She muttered, her hand coming up to her mouth. She felt a little sick. "I'm so sorry, I don't know what…"

Giles had quickly put several feet between them and was running one hand through his hair.

"Ah… It's, it's alright." He stammered, clearly taken aback.

"No. No, far from. I... I should go." Mortified, Buffy quickly made for the door.

"Buffy, wait!" Giles protested, though he was at a loss for what he would say if she did.

Dawn looked up from her books and pulled a headphone off one ear.

"Where you off to in such a…"

But Buffy was out the door before her sister could even really turn around and Giles was left standing in the Magic Box with Dawn and her worried expression.

"Should I go…?" She gestured in the direction of outside but Giles stopped her.

"Ah, no. I... I think it's best perhaps if we just let her…" But he trailed off and retreated back into the training room, closing the door behind him.

"What about dinner...?" Dawn muttered to an empty room and slowly leaned back into her chair.

…

It was nearly dark when Buffy reached Rovello Dr. and she became acutely aware of how little she was wearing. Summer was quickly waning into Fall and, even in Southern California that meant a chilly dusk and a cold night. Crossing her bare arms for warmth, her pace slowed with each step she took closer to her house. Buffy absently kicked at a pebble in her path and sent it flying clear across the street. It didn't feel like her house- not like it used to- before Mom and The Girls and, yes, if she was honest with herself, before even Dawn. Buffy didn't know why exactly but, since she had come back, she thought some part of her seemed to remember a life without her sister. Nothing concrete, really but just... feelings; a slightly lighter load and what she supposed must have been the pride and relief that came with knowing that, when it all finally went to hell, all her loved ones would go fighting by her side- of their own free will and right. Nothing to die for but the world. It seemed to much simpler at times.

But nothing was simple now. Giles was the only thing right in this world anymore and she had just screwed that one up royally. Buffy sighed heavily and leaned up against the tall fence beside her.

"Giles..." She breathed his name aloud and knocked her head back against the fence. Though it still came as a bit of a surprise to her, this time Buffy allowed herself to feel the twisting knot in her lower belly as she thought of his touch and the feeling of his face close to hers. Then came the inevitable inner cringe at remembering the recoil which had followed but she pushed that aside for a second and allowed her thoughts to explore the meeting of their lips, the taste of his skin, his shy yet knowing hand coming around her hip to tug her closer...

Buffy let out a petulant wine and bowed her head into her hands. What was wrong with her? Since when had Giles- tweedy, sexless, dinosaur Giles- become worthy of kissy awake dreams? The regular dreams were bad enough and even those weren't exactly... regular. (Giles by a campfire, Giles on a boat, Giles in weird robes- and each one leaving her all hot and sweaty.) Buffy's dreams of waking up in a box were quickly being replaced by the nightly sexcapades of her and her watcher (each in a new and foreign mystical place of power)- which, by the way, wasn't affording her anymore sleep.

After awaking from the first dream which had turned particularly graphic, Buffy had thought it would be weird to be in his presence and had planned on avoiding him for most of the next day. After all, it couldn't be that hard- she'd been doing it to everyone else. However, it had taken her all of about three second at breakfast to decide that it was stupid plan as she watched him pour his milk into his tea. This was Giles, and nothing could be weird with him. She couldn't control what her brain did in it's sleep (and, quite frankly, nor did she exactly want to). But, at least she had been able to hold herself together around him. Until today. Buffy didn't know why it had felt so normal to just lean in and 'go for the kill', only that, for a second, it had- before reality and the yucky had asserted itself. _Or maybe, _Buffy mused to herself, _it was simply easier than telling him the truth. _As it remained, Giles still believed that she'd been resurrected from a dimension of hell and torment. That fact alone, more than any other, kept them miles apart.

With another deep breath, Buffy pushed herself upright and continued on home. In the 60 seconds or so it took Buffy to reach her porch she had already conjured up about six different scenarios for what she might be greeted with inside, each one more imaginative than the next. But the last that popped into her mind, a note on the dining room table and a tear-stained Dawn, caused Buffy to hasten the last few steps to her door.

* * *

I have most of Chapter 4 written but I could definitely use the extra encouragement to get it out faster! Let me know what you think. Likes, dislikes... Oh you know the drill. :)


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